And Here I Am
by Thegirlbehindthewords
Summary: They rescued her out of the arena, leaving someone she cares about behind for capture. She is told she is the Mockingjay, the leader of a rebellion she had been kept in the dark about. What really happened between her arrival in 13 and the beginning of Mockinjay?
1. Chapter 1

And here I am. Laying in a hospital bed. Locked in another room in a place apparently underground. A prison of its own kind.

The room smells of sterile fumes and alcohol. My body aches every time I try to sit up. A bandage on my forearm hides the cut that sends shooting pains through me whenever I move it. I'm crippled and broken.

My mind is spinning with the events of the last day. The breakout of the arena, being pulled out, Peeta being sent to the Capitol, arriving in 13, seeing my family. It was all so much.

Seeing Prim well and alive brought a surge of peace, along with knowing my mom was safe as well.

_**I lay here taking in Gale's news. 12 gone. We're in 13. Nothing's ever going to be the same. **_

_**The door burst open, revealing a small girl with blonde hair. **_

"_**Prim!" I shout in my ragged voice. She runs to me as I sit up and embrace her. She is one of the few familiar things here. I inhale, smelling her hair. It still smells like the Prim I've always known.**_

"_**I am so sorry." She whispers, causing my heart to contract. The happiness of her presence can't fully remove the awful reality I've landed in. **_

_**My mother sat down next to me, placing her hand on my back. Even after everything, her touch is welcome and comforting. We look like a family for a moment.**_

_**I pull back to look at Prim in the eyes, her blue ones showing sympathy as mine start to water. **_

"_**It'll all be ok." I say, hearing the doubt in my own voice. "It'll all be ok." I say again, trying to sound more confident in my statement. However, I know I don't need to sound strong. They understand.**_

But the peace was quickly overridden by the reminder of my home being destroyed. Being trapped underground. The fact that our cruel and ruthless Capitol had their hands on someone I care more about than my own life.

I haven't even comprehended the mess I made of the arena, and how angry the capitol must be. I shudder at the thought, knowing they'll take their anger out on Peeta. Poor, loving, unknowing Peeta.

My head thinks of an image of Peeta strapped to a table, being prodded with needles and told to tell information he doesn't know. And I can't help him. He's out of my reach and I can't function knowing he's gone. All I want is his arms around me, comforting me as I lay here, using his persuasive words to convince me I'll get through it.

My heart feels a pain I've never quite experienced. I've lost something that meant more to me than I ever understood. Even when I thought I was never going to see my family again, it was only sorrow. The thought of not seeing Gale didn't even cut this deep.

All of my feelings for Gale almost instantly dissipate and pale in comparison to the emotions I've felt recently. I feel hurt knowing that he must have sensed my lack of joy the few times he has visited me here. Maybe that's why he has not been by my side non-stop. That or they're using his clever mind to help the war. I prefer to think it's the second reason.

But when it comes down to it, I know the sorrow. Something I never planned on feeling. But things haven't been going as I've planned lately.

My heart is broken.

And if this is what love feels like, I don't like it. 


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey Catnip." Gale's voice is the first thing I hear in the morning. Even with everything that has happened, his voice still causes a sense of warmth to fill my veins. His fingers stroke my cheek as my eyes flutter open.

The same dull white room comes into view behind him, reminding me of where I am. However, I feel different. I feel sturdier today. Stronger than I have in the past few days I have been here. Well, physically at least.

"How are you feeling?" He moves his fingers from my cheek to move my hair behind my ear. Sitting up easily, I sigh. He is one person I know I can trust.

"Oh fantastic." I say with a slight smile and sarcasm oozing from my scratchy voice. He already knows I feel terrible.

"Prim's doing great in the hospital. She's taking the adjustment well." The sound of my sister striving in this new environment makes me feel a little more hopeful. However, I begin to feel weary when the sense of optimism in his eyes fades. I notice the grey stack of clothing resting on the table across the room. "You know you can't stay in here forever."

And there it is. Those are the words I didn't want to hear. Oh course I know that. But what else can I do?

"And why not?" I ask defensively. Of course they sent him to ask the question. They may have pulled me out, broken their promises, and ruined my plans, but I do not have to be cooperative.

Gale sighs heavily. "I know this was kept from you. Honestly, everyone here is trying to adjust with emotions and changes. And I wish they would've told you the truth but-"

"But what?" I interrupt. "But I should still fight for the cause? I should give them what they want and continue to be a puppet controlled by the government?"

Gale looks down and breathes in heavily. "Look Katniss, I can't make you do what they want. I know you're mad. You have the right to be."

"Mad?" I scowl. I have had a lot of emotions building up in me as I've laid here for the past 3 days. Mad was only scratching the surface of the feelings I've been holding inside. "I've been lied to, used, and kept in the dark by people I trusted!"

The image of Haymitch enters my mind. I haven't seen him here yet. He's probably keeping his distance since I attacked him on the hovercraft.

It's silent more a minute before he speaks and breaks the tension.

"I know you're upset about him." Gale looks me right in the eye. A mixture of pain and sympathy with a touch of anger stirs in his silver orbs. The mention of Peeta causes his muscles to stiffen. However, we both know this is a topic we can't avoid.

The mention of Peeta, even without saying his name out loud, makes me curl into a ball. I know this is horrible for him to watch. I'm sure it breaks Gale's heart to watch mine be broken by someone else.

"He's probably dead." Are the only words that escape my mouth. The thought has been haunting me the entire time that I've laid here, breaking my heart into smaller and smaller pieces each time. Yet a part of me feels like that's too kind of the capitol. Letting him die now rather than later.

"Or worse." I squeeze my eyes shut as I imagine him being whipped and burned, tortured terribly. I realize this is the first time I've talked about Peeta to anyone here. All of my visitors speak to me as if he doesn't exist.

Gale opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. What is there to say?

Eventually he finds words. "Just think about the fact that if you agree to help, there's a chance you can save him."

But how? The chance of me getting him back is too slim. It would take a miracle. Not impossible, just highly unlikely.

"This all started because the Capitol we're fighting against wanted to put your little sister into that cruel competition they dare to call a game. You volunteering caused a wave of change in this nation. And now people are taking the leverage you built to end the corrupt government. People are still looking to you, even if you don't like it. Now you can lay here in spite, which I understand if you did. You're in pain. But think about how much hope you can give by even just getting out of this bed." I look up at him and he shakes his head. He already knows what I'm thinking. "I'm not convincing you to be the Mockingjay. That's a lot for you to handle."

He dug his hand into his pocket, pulling out a dark lump of collected items. He grabs my hands and set it them.

"Prim is safe now." He continues as I inspect my gift. It's my pin, the starter of the fire that's running wild in this country. "And you don't have to protect your family anymore." I see the parachute and spile that supplied us life in the arena.

He stands up and walks across the room. Right as Gale walks out of the door, he finishes. "So maybe you can do it for him." And the last gift stops my heart.

As painful as it is, it's enough to break me and strengthen me at the same time. I climb out of my bed, now determined to get up. I continue to stare at the final gift.

Because in my hand lies a single silver pearl.


	3. Chapter 3

I pull off my soiled hospital gown and put on the baggy grey outfit as well as incorrectly sized shoes. I make sure my bracelet labeled "mentally disoriented" was displayed properly on my wrist as I slip the silver pearl and few other gifts into my pocket. As I am about to leave, I see the locket that Effie gave Peeta as a token is sitting on my side table as well. Presuming I was so in awe of the pearl to notice the locket, I set it in my pocket as well. Taking a deep and much needed breath, I begin to make my way towards the door.

Looking around the room one last time, I evaluate my emotions. This room has kept me in a type of solitary confinement for the past week. A mix of relief and worry mixes inside of me as a fix to leave it. But I know I must. Gale was right, I can't stay in here forever. And he figured out how to get me moving.

Now that I'm alert, my curiosity has grown about the district I am currently inhabiting. I slip out of the door, honestly not sure how to get around, or if I am even allowed to leave this wing of the hospital. But when have I let rules and permissions hold me back in the last 12 months?

I walk down the hall casually, doctors rushing by me as if I am invisible. My heart is racing as I hunt for an exit. The reality of my change in scenery is beginning to sink in. I have left the only place I know of here, and now I am diving head on into the rebel head quarters, completely lost and surrounded by strange people. I am still weak, and probably look incredibly deteriorated from remaining cooped up in the informatory. I give my silent thanks that no one has noticed my appearance, or really my presence at all.

After countless minutes of meandering down long hallways, I accept that I am lost. I have passed the same pale grey door leading to the surgical center four times. Yet I remain quiet and searching for a way out. I can't ask any of these strangers where I am anyways. They'll probably just try to send me back to the room where I embarked from.

Just then, Prim enters my mind. I hope, given any small amount of luck, that I'll run into her. As soon as those thoughts cross through my mind, I see her and my mother tending to an elderly man through a frosted window embedded in the wall. Both of them sustaining extremely concentrated expressions, intently attempting to heal the man's large wounds.

Continuing down another never ending hallway, the smell of herbs, alcohol, and death hits my nose. The intoxicating scent fills my lungs, making my want to vomit. This quickens my pace. I begin to turn any direction that I don't recall taking before, quickly running through these series of mazes to escape this ill stricken location.

Sprinting down a path with no healing rooms attached, I see a black metal door at the end of one of a pathway labeled _Special Defense_. Desperate, I open it_._ Presuming this leads me out of the

hospital, I sprint down the narrower hall, lined with similar black doors.

Out of breath, I slump against the wall. The section is dramatically less populated. The hallway I am sitting in is vacant except for me.

Leaning my head back, I allow myself to take in the clean scent. The air here is not contaminated by rough chemicals and musty breath. The change helps my heart rate slow down, as I welcome more air into my chest. That's when I hear a shuffle of feet from inside the door next to me. 

"Haymitch told us she'd be uncooperative without the boy." A man says, sounding slightly annoyed. "I was hoping the news of the rebellion would take enough of her interest. Gets her passion raging against the Capitol."

I recognize the voice. I link it back to Plutarch Heavensbee, the man in charge of pulling me out of the destroyed arena.

I hear him continue, clearly irritated. "Now all we have is a girl who refuses to talk to us and is too weak to move."

This was true. The few times he had shown up in my room over the past few days that I have been here, I was less than cooperative. I would squeeze my eyes shut and block him out. Nurses soon ushered him out, scared he would affect my mental state from stressing my emotions.

"He was the only thing in the end that has kept her going. Now that he's out of our reach, I'm not sure how she's going to be." A younger voice sighs. "Unfortunately, I understand her pain. However, you seem to be forgetting she's only a 17 year old girl. Boys play a big role in their minds."

Suddenly I am on my feet, seething. They think I am too weak to the point I'm useless? Do I have that little value, that if I am not up and fighting that I am a waste of life?

The next comment causes my breathing to hitch in my throat.

"I miss Annie too." Finnick. The other voice is Finnick Odair.

Busting into the room, I catch both of them off guard and startled by my sudden entrance.

"Well hello Miss. Everdeen." Plutarch says cautiously, as if one wrong word will result in my nails digging into this face, just as they did to Haymitch.

"I certainly am strong enough to show myself out of my room." I mutter. I turn to Finnick. "And capable of functioning without the help of a boy."

The two men look at one another, now realizing I heard their prior conversation.

"Please have a seat. There's no need to rush into an argument." Plutarch pulls a chair up to the table next to Finnick. "Besides, we have much to catch up on. There's a lot you need to know." He finishes with a smile.

Much to my own surprise, I sit compliantly. As I do, I take in my surroundings. The walls are lined with monitors, showing footage of everything imaginable. I see video of the hospital I just left, all of the hallways I wandered down aimlessly, to the very room we are sitting in. Across from us sits another section of televisions in twelve clumps. This must be their way of keeping surveillance on the districts. I am amazed at what they have going on here, shocked that such a complex contrivance has been orchestrated in a place I thought was destroyed.

A muffled rumble of hunger erupts from my stomach. This is the first time I think about food. It's something I probably should consider now since I am not hooked to an IV anymore.

"Are you hungry?" Plutarch breaks the silence. Before I can answer, he tells me he will take care of it and takes off, presumably to get food. This leaves me alone with Finnick.

Unsure of what to say, I am caught off guard when I am suddenly embraced.

"I am so sorry." He whispers. I gently embrace him back before he pulls away. Looking into his eyes, I see he is broken like I am. I remember our conversation on the hovercraft. How Johanna will have it worse, how he knew about the plan, and how we both pleaded for all of us to be dead.

I look down at my feet. "It's not your fault. You can't blame yourself for how things turned out." I say barely audible, in a tone above a whisper. "You're hurting too."

"She's mad Katniss. They won't even bother to tamper with her mind." Finnick sighs. I know we are talking about Annie. "Johanna knows the most but they won't figure that out for a while."

I just stare at his scorched golden hair, reminding me of when Peeta hit the force field. Finnick saved him, only for us to let him be captured.

"He's the closest one to me." Is all I manage. We both know I am right. My relationship with Peeta, real or fake, makes him a part of me that the capitol has a hold of.

Before we can say anything else, Plutarch returns with a pot of stew and a basket of bread. I wonder who told him how to get me to eat.

Sitting back down at the table, he turns his attention to me.

"So Katniss," Plutarch breathes in heavily before he continues. "What do you want to know?"

listen


	4. Chapter 4

_What do you want to know? _

The words ring in my head as I pick at a bowl of lamb stew, talking myself out of gorging right into it. I may be hungry, but the act of pacing myself almost seems defiant, which makes me more comfortable.

But what did I want to know? Honestly, I am not sure. I know as much as they told me on the hover craft. They planned on rescuing me from the day the Quarter Quell was announced, I know that. I also know an assortment of other small information, like a few people were in on the plan. Except for Peeta and I. This thought brings my rage back, flooding into my veins.

I open my mouth to speak, trying to contain my anger, but nothing comes out. Instead I stare blankly at Plutarch, my mouth hanging agape. The anger began to mix with something similar to sorrow and crawls up my throat, stinging my eyes. The reminder that they had months to put together a full proof plan and we still couldn't get Peeta out safely. I put my spoon down as I start to tremble.

"How about I just tell you about what has been going on here in 13?" Plutarch says calmly, sipping his water. He looks mildly concerned.

I nod slowly as he makes his way to a group of monitors labeled "D. 13".

"Our plan is to unite the districts, more or less. This room we are sitting in was built over the last 75 years." He taps the wall as if to show how sturdy it is. "It was built to fight, waiting for the spark that you brought along, Miss. Everdeen."

"I never meant to cause a spark." I tell him. I am sure of that. I wasn't in love, I wasn't defying the capitol. All I wanted to do was get myself and the boy with the bread home safely.

"Whether it was intended or not, it was lit. Now," He pointed to a monitor frozen with a picture. "We have begun a war we cannot afford to lose."

I look at the picture. People are pouring into the streets of what looks to be district 11. They are shouting, holding flaming sticks, burning the capitols flag. The few peacekeepers seem to be out numbered, cowering in the back without their weapons. I see blood splattered faces, making the small amount of stew I have eaten threaten to resurface.

I look at Finnick, but he still has the same lost and distantly painful look in his eyes from when I mentioned Annie.

"This, was the first successful uprising." Plutarch said in an illustrious tone. "With your help, President Coin can unite the rest of the remaining districts. We have a pretty fair chance at winning this."

"Wait," The word president makes my spine shiver. "Who is President Coin?"

"Ah of course! She is the leader in all of this. The head of the rebellion government." He smiles widely. "As soon as you are well we planned on having you meet with her and a few other head rebels."

I look at him, not sure what expression to put on my face. Something between disgust and offense should be there, but my muscles feel numb. Does he think now that I am up and about that I am just going to oblige to being the Mockingjay?

"Of course, she will explain everything in greater detail before you start. I mean if you want to, that is." Plutarch sits back down, remembering I am not all on board.

A large watch-type machine begins to ring on his hand, printing out a sheet of paper. Tearing it off, he inspects it with caution. A muffled laugh escapes his mouth as he turns his attention back to me.

"They've seemed to notice your disappearance in the hospital." He continues to chuckle. "Still doing as you please I see. I guess I shouldn't complain. If you hadn't chosen to pull out those berries we wouldn't be here right now."

"I wish I would've eaten them." I say, barely audible. Just loud enough for him to hear. And it's true. If I had eaten them, surely another rebellion would've broken out. Having no victors would've caused something of the sort, still lighting a spark, showing even more rebellion on my part. More importantly, Peeta would have died then. He would have died peacefully, slipping into an eternal sleep. Not being tortured to death, if they're even kind enough to have killed him by now.

Brushing off my comment, Plutarch puts his bowl aside. It's only then that I realize Finnick is still here, and has rested his head on the table, sitting there in silence, trying to block out the world.

"What do you say to a little field trip Katniss?" Plutarch says, motioning to the door. I shrug my shoulders.

"Will I end up back in the hospital? Confined?" I ask before even daring to move a muscle towards getting up.

"No, actually just the opposite." He smiles. "You are clearly well enough to be starting life as a member of 13 now. That wrist band is like your release waiver." He motions to my bracelet that is essentially just a reminder of how mentally unstable I am.

I stand up slowly and sulk to the door behind him.

"Oh and before I forget," He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small tube of ointment. "The hospital tried to take this once you arrived, but it belongs to you. I figured you may want as many personally possessions as you can get."

I take the tube reluctantly, grimacing at the memories. The fog, the itching and burning blisters. Losing Mags in effort to save someone I cared about. However, Plutarch is right. I have little here that is truly mine; I might as well take what I can get.

Once we're out the doors, leaving Finnick behind, he shows me down a path of long hallways. I watch as he points to different entrances and talks about what happens in them, but I am barely listening. I am overwhelmed by the size of the place, and the fact it is all underground horrifies me. I see, to my surprise, Gale through one door marked _Special Defense_. I so desperately want to talk to him again, but I'm not sure what I would even say.

Continuing down the hall, I follow Plutarch through yet another set of double doors. We enter a large corridor, crowded with people. An official looking man says hello to him and nods respectively at me. People around us look and stare before continuing on with whatever they are doing. I often forget I have been a public specimen for quite some time now. I do not blend into the crowd anymore.

Plutarch takes me up a flight of stairs to what I was told are living quarters. We stop at one near the end of the hall. Unlocking it, he opens the door for me to enter.

"This is your new home." Plutarch says as if it's consoling. "Your sister and mother stay here too. You are welcome to remain in here for the rest of the evening until dinner. I know this is still a lot for you." He hands me the key and a folded piece of paper. "Most people don't have personal maps anymore, but since you're still new here, I'll give you the advantage." And with a pat on the back, he's gone.

The small window is the only source of light in the room, leaving it dark and somewhat gloomy. Yet I am grateful for the natural light. I haven't seen it in days.

Sitting on the bed, I pull my few small gifts out of my pocket. As I once again inspect them, each one brings me a different feeling. The parachute concern and relief, the ointment panic and alleviation, the locket sorrow and sympathy. The pearl is the only one I cannot pinpoint into words.

For the first time in hours, I truly let myself think. What am I going to do now? We are at war. More people will die. I will never be ignored by either governments. As long as we are here I am expected to help. If we win, what will happen to me? What will become of Panem? What happens to all of us? Then is hits me.

I already know Peeta will be killed no matter what, and a rush of pain takes over as I break into a round of sobs. I silently curse Gale for giving me false hope. I can't save him, or at least on my own. However, I have people that could help. The small thought gives me a glimpse of the hope I had this morning. As the tears suddenly disappear, I continue to lay there. I really am mentally disoriented. And they want me to lead a rebellion.


End file.
